


sometimes there is mercy

by CompanyPolicy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Family Bonding, Force-Sensitive Shmi Skywalker, Gen, Old Ben Kenobi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slave Revolution, YES THIS ESPECIALLY INCLUDES YOU JINN, YOU STUBBORN MOTHERFUCKER, anakin and shmi are here to fuck your fake democracy up, ben wants the jedi to get the fuck off his goddamn lawn, ben's got issues, ben's just along for the ride, even if the lawn is just a bunch of fucking sand, hondo ohnaka is there, mace doesn't have time for this shit, various jedi - Freeform, yoda is a cackling troll (as always)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompanyPolicy/pseuds/CompanyPolicy
Summary: The Force takes pity on Old Ben Kenobi and sends him back in time. He wakes up on Tatooine a year before the Invasion of Naboo and, upon being taken in by Anakin and Shmi Skywalker, decides to change fate (and tell the Jedi Order to fuck off).Based on the mikeymonster's Old Ben AU on tumblr





	1. Yes, Ben was a Jedi. A long time ago in another life

**Author's Note:**

> These sections will be posted out of chronological order because that's how I'm writing them lmao

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 10 years old  
> Shmi: 40 years old  
> Ben: 60 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 2 years

“Hey, Ben?”

“Yes, Anakin?” Ben asked, pulling himself out of his meditation. He opened his eyes to see the young boy sitting in front of him, engine grease streaking his face and clothing. Shmi was probably already gearing up for another lecture on cleanliness.

“You used to be a Jedi, right?”

Ben stiffened momentarily before his aching joints protested. Anakin didn’t mean anything by the question; his face was simple curiosity. Sighing, Ben said, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, you seem to know all those Jedi that keep showing up,” Anakin said in that vaguely lofty, Of Course I Know This tone that had been replaced with a defensive bitterness sometime during their years at the Temple in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s life. “And you know a lot about their Code and how they work.” He shrugged and looked Ben in the eyes. “And you have a lightsaber.”

Ben couldn’t stop himself from quipping back, “Nothing gets by you, does it, Anakin?” Truthfully, he hadn’t tried to hide his lightsaber from Anakin and Shmi. There hadn’t seemed to be a point. However, he wasn’t above hiding it whenever the Jedi came by. So far only Yoda seemed to know or even suspect that Ben had been a Jedi, and Ben would prefer to keep it that way.

Anakin crossed his arms and pouted.

Letting out another sigh, Ben answered, “Yes, Anakin, I used to be a Jedi. A long time ago.”

Anakin cocked his head to the side and asked, “Why’d you stop?”

Ben smiled. It sounded so easy when Anakin said it, like Obi-Wan Kenobi’s world hadn’t dissolved into blood, fire, and ash. How could he explain it to Anakin without giving any of the horror away?

He cleared his throat. “Some bad things happened, terrible things. I strived to be the perfect Jedi for years—some would say that I accomplished it—but I always felt like a failure. I took on a padawan who was too old when I was too young and grieving for my recently murdered Master. The Council opposed it because they believed the boy was dangerous—”

“Was he?” Anakin interrupted.

Ben gave him a reproaching stare. Anakin looked away guiltily, silently apologizing for his rudeness through the Force.

“All people are dangerous, Anakin,” Ben said slowly. “Whether they can use the Force or not. My padawan was bright and pure when he came to the Temple. All he wanted to do was help people, but . . . the Jedi were not prepared for him. My padawan could not adjust to the constraints of the Code, though he tried, oh, did he try. He was always at odds with the other Jedi. They couldn’t understand him, though it’s more like most of them refused to try. That refusal to understand another being strangled the Light out of him. He began confiding in a man outside of the Jedi. This man validated his feelings, those of bitterness, anger, and isolation, and encouraged them. My padawan and I drifted apart, held together only by the faintest strings. The man turned out to be a Sith lord who had been grooming my padawan to be his apprentice. My padawan was given a choice—either stay in the Light and let all the people that he loved die, or pledge himself to the Dark and have a chance to save them. He chose the Dark. I was forced to-to . . .” His voice drifted off. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, not to Anakin, not when there was peace in their lives for once.

Anakin was silent. His focused attention was on Ben, and that . . . that was something Ben had to readjust to. Having Anakin’s full attention bordered intense and painful. His Force presence was so bright and penetrating that if he stared at you for too long you felt as if he were trying to flay you apart with a scalpel to get at your hidden spaces.

Ben remembered many days when he couldn’t meet the young boy’s stare, but today he felt brave.

And wish he had taken the coward’s way out.

Anakin understood. Ben didn’t know how much he understood, but the boy knew, and Ben could do nothing to stop it. He became overwhelmed with panic, only decades of diplomatic skills kept his mask in place.

Suddenly, Anakin smiled. Not a carefree grin but a sad, understanding one. “Thank you for telling me. I know your past is hard to talk about.” He stood, dusted the sand off his clothing, and closed the distance between them to pull the still-kneeling Ben into a hug. He nuzzled his overly soft cheek against Ben’s bristly one, murmuring, “I’m really glad you’re here, Ben.” He pulled away but didn’t release the embrace. “Would it be okay if we worked on sitting meditation again? I think I have the moving one down, but I can’t get the hang of sitting still.”

Ben took a slow, deep breath, held it for several seconds, and then released it. He returned Anakin’s embrace, tightly squeezing the boy to him as if it were possible to break open his own chest and hide Anakin’s Light there for eternity.

“Yes, Anakin, I would be happy to help you.” If his voice cracked, then neither of them mentioned it.

With one last squeeze, Ben released Anakin, saying, “Now, go get cleaned up. If Shmi catches you, you’ll be weeding the garden until the suns go down, and we won’t get to meditate.”

“Okay!” Anakin beamed. “Be back in a minute!” he called out, rushing back to the house.

When Ben was sure that he was alone, he collapsed in on himself, sobs wracking his fragile body.

“Anakin! What did I tell you about getting your clothes dirty?” Shmi said sharply.

“Aw, Mom . . .”

“Don’t ‘aw, Mom’, me, Ani. Go get clean and then go straight to the garden.”

“But Ben and I were gonna work on meditation!”

“Well then, you best get to work if you want to have your lessons.”

Ben listened to the familiar bickering. Peace washed over him. Smiling, he let the hot tears streak down his face and watched the suns begin to set.


	2. shmi skywalker should've been fucking trained goddammit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 9 years old  
> Shmi: 39 years old  
> Ben: 59 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 1 year

Training Anakin was far easier this time around. Ben knew it was most likely due to any number of things, but sometimes he wondered which was the heaviest influence.

He certainly had experience training Anakin, but everything was different now. Anakin wasn’t scrambling to catch up to agemates who disapproved of him, nor was he under the ever-scrutinizing gaze of the Council. Ben wasn’t a new knight desperately trying to keep his head above an ocean of grief, placate the Council, and help his padawan adjust. They were still on Tatooine, far from Coruscant. Palpatine had no knowledge of Anakin’s existence. Shmi was still alive and well.

Force bless Shmi Skywalker. Ben didn’t know how he got anything done without her. She corralled Anakin as easily as breathing and always seemed to have an answer at the ready for the ever-questioning boy. Ben suspected that krayt dragons would stumble out of Shmi’s path. How could he have gone a lifetime without knowing her?

He inhaled deeply and slowly began his katas. His first extended stay on Tatooine had left him grossly out of shape. He needed to almost completely retrain his body. Anakin was already practicing more advanced forms, and Ben would be damned if he let the boy win their spars this early in his apprenticeship. Oh no, Anakin would be getting his butt handed to him for many years to come. If Yoda could keep up with padawan Dooku, then Ben would get back in shape.

Of course, determination didn’t stop his knees from cracking.

Letting out a curse in Huttese, Ben broke form to massage the offending joint.

“Here.” A steaming cup was offered to him by a smiling Shmi. “It will help loosen your joints.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ben took the cup. “Oh?” he questioned, taking a long drink of the mildly sour liquid.

“Think of greasing or oiling a rusty machine,” she answered.

Ben had asked her once if Anakin had gotten that habit—speaking of living things in mechanical terms—from her or she from him. She had smiled mischievously and said she couldn’t remember. Anakin became similarly silent when questioned. Ben cheerfully let them have their secrets.

At the beginning, when Anakin had first brought Ben home to the slave quarters, Ben had been struck by Shmi’s force presence. While not as strong as Anakin (no one was as strong as Anakin), she was striking. Mature, self-trained force users were rare enough, but for one to be . . . not feral (He hated that wording, but it was all that seemed to fit) . . . well, it was shocking. Ben had wracked his memory for weeks, desperately searching for any point in time Qui-Gon might have mentioned the masterful force presence of Shmi Skywalker. He came up with nothing; either Qui-Gon hadn’t thought it was important or hadn’t noticed. Both were possible. Qui-Gon had the tendency to hyper focus on one detail and forget everything else.

But still . . . Ben couldn’t fathom ignoring Shmi. She held herself as a Jedi Master would. Just as intense as Anakin was, Shmi matched him. She was just better a hiding it.

More than once Ben entertained the thought of teaching her everything he knew, their family traveling to Coruscant, and letting her have her fun at the Temple. He was sure she would enjoy stunning every Jedi that would meet her.

“Ben? Ben?”

Ben snapped out of his thoughts to see Shmi hovering close to him. “Hm? I apologize, Shmi. It seems I got lost in thought. You were saying?” He drained the rest of the now lukewarm drink and gently stretched his knees.

Pursing her lips, Shmi instead asked, “Were you thinking about it again?”

‘It’ could be many things. From flashbacks of the war to nightmares about Mustafar, the Skywalkers had inadvertently experienced almost everything Ben had to offer, most of which he wished to take back. But judging by Shmi’s curious but exasperated look, she meant something else.

“No,” he replied with a grin, “but I probably would’ve gotten to it if you had let me.”

She snorted, not even bothering to hide her smirk. “You would think about the universe from dawn ‘til dusk if we let you.” She settled on the ground and patted the sand next to her in invitation. Once Ben had managed to arrange himself without too much fuss, she said, “I don’t see what’s so interesting about a bond anyway.”

Hers and Anakin’s. Their bond was an enigma to Ben; it wasn’t a training bond, a crèche bond, or even a pair bond. He knew that pregnant force sensitives formed bonds with their unborn children, but the bond normally faded after the birth. Those bonds could never measure up to the one between Shmi and Anakin. Their bond seemed ingrained into their very selves, and the consequences of such a bond being severed abruptly . . .

“Ben!” Shmi snapped.

He startled and gave the annoyed woman a sheepish smile. “It’s just so different from anything that’s been seen before. You can’t blame me for being curious, Shmi,” he defended himself.

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wish I could. You’re as bad as Anakin.”

That made his chest flutter. He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Perhaps I got it from him.”

Scowling playfully, Shmi flicked sand into his lap. He didn’t bother brushing it off.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked.

Shmi hesitated. She began twisting her fingers until Ben was afraid she would break her fingers. Another trait she and Anakin shared.

“I wish to learn . . .” she said. “Ever since you’ve begun teaching Anakin, I’ve felt something within myself rise up, yearning to know. I will not deny that it’s partially driven by fear. Tatooine is dangerous, and while we are not slaves anymore, the threat is always present, as well as others. Anakin believes he’ll soon be able to protect me, but he’s a child, _my_ child. It is not his duty to protect me.” She looked at him, all hesitation vanishing. “I know that I am too old to be trained, but I must ask this of you, Ben. Now that I am free, I will die before I allow someone to own me again. My strength in the Force isn’t an issue. Raw talent will only get me so far. I will be tempted to take the desperate, easy path, but I will refuse it. I have not survived this long by being impulsive. However . . .” Reluctance briefly pulled at her brows and eyes before disappearing. “I will understand if you believe it too risky to train me in the Force. Instead, I will ask you to train me in your saber forms. I have a vibrosword that I haggled for in the market and have begun training with it.”

Ben’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as Shmi talked. This was . . . a surprise. Shmi hadn’t seemed to take much interest in the Force other than to ask how it pertained to Anakin, Ben, or why ‘that ridiculously determined’ Jedi kept coming back. Sure, she joined them for meditation, but that originally began as her demonstrating how she calmed her mind to Anakin.

 “It’s true that you’re too old to be taught as a Jedi, Shmi—” A slow smile spread across his face— “But we are not Jedi.” He stood with a grunt and wiped as much sand from his clothing as possible. “I believe your drink has sufficiently greased these old joints. Should we begin the basic katas now or later?”

Shmi beamed, smoothly standing instead of the excited bounce he was more familiar with from a Skywalker. “Now, if that is acceptable.”

He couldn’t stop the excited buzzing under his skin from flowing out into the Force. Shmi shared his almost-giddy smile.

“Now, these are the forms of Shii-Cho, also known as Form I, The Way of the Sarlacc, or The Determination Form,” Ben began, moving easily into the first katas. Shmi mirrored him. “Its movements are the ones that all other saber forms are built on. One must become proficient in Shii-Cho before moving on to a specialized form.”

“Do you have to choose a second form?” Shmi asked as they transitioned into the third kata.

He answered simply, “No, but most choose to because they either find other forms better suited to them or simply become bored with the style.”

Shmi laughed, and the two of them moved almost in sync as the twin suns rose.


	3. there are many ways to help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 12 years old  
> Shmi: 42 years old  
> Ben: 62 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 4 years

Their house almost always had a slave or two hiding deep within its depths. Shmi had been hesitant to continue her spot on the Freedom Trail when Ben had shown up. She took to sneaking away during market trips to continue helping the slaves until Ben waited for her outside the slave quarters one day and asked if any runaways needed a hideout.

Their house was on the bigger side but had been thoroughly abandoned when Ben found it. The evaporators had needed a bit of work but were in good order. It was far enough away from town (out of range of the detonators) and just slightly too close to Tusken land so they rarely had visitors. The Hutts rarely bothered them after Ben cut through the group of hired thugs they sent to extort money from the family. Anakin had followed at Ben’s heels for nearly two weeks straight, pleading to be taught exactly how it was done. Ben made sure to firmly refuse the request. Anakin would not be learning those lessons until he was at least thirteen. Of course, Shmi was another story . . .

The extra space provided ample area to create many hidden rooms. One of which had become a full-stop medical facility. Medical supplies were stolen from the Hutts or slaver ships. Shmi and Anakin had even managed to refurbish two medical droids, programming them to assist with the removal of the slave chips. That was the room’s main purpose, after all; it provided a place for slaves to have their chips removed so that they could truly be free. Today, however, was not one of those days.

“All right, Plaoje, you need to start pushing,” Shmi instructed the Korun woman who was laying on the table.

The woman did as she was told. Her screams of pain and exertion bounced off the walls, fully contained by the thick stone. Even if someone were standing right outside the door or in the room above, they would hear nothing of what was happening in the medical room.

Anakin was not present. Not because he would be scarred by the birth—he had assisted Shmi with several before Ben’s arrival—but because he was finishing up another implant scanner for the small family to take with them when they left. They would most likely drop it off at another point on the Freedom Trail, spreading the necessary tools to free even more slaves.

Ben gently mopped the sweat from Plaoje’s brow. He murmured soothingly to her and surrounded her with calming energy through the Force. She wasn’t force sensitive, but her rapid breathing calmed, and her heartrate decreased.

Ben had initially been reluctant to help with the births. Not because he was squeamish or disliked the process but because he didn’t want to make the pregnant slaves uncomfortable. They were wary enough of freepeople as it was. He didn’t want to make their lives more difficult. But Shmi had requested his help. She vouched for him and walked him through the slave birthing traditions. He did as Shmi requested, only stepping out of the assigned role if his assistant was desperately needed. In this setting, she always addressed him as her Link. During a birth, a Link’s realm was that of the spiritual; Links represented the spirits of the ancestors and the desire of those ancestors to safely bring new life into the world. Links funneled those desires to the parent to keep them calm and assure them that the birth would go as planned. Links were to never touch the parent below the waist unless the child was near death because the ancestors could become frantic and pull the child’s soul into the afterlife. The role was important but potentially dangerous one during a birth, and only the most trusted person the household was given the position.

Ben adapted easily to the role. It allowed him to channel the Force in a way he hadn’t in decades. He could welcome new life into the world and soothe pain rather than end lives or endure battles.

“I see the head! You’re doing so well, Plaoje. Keep going,” Shmi urged.

For an instance, Ben focused solely on the baby being born. He funneled an image Plaoje of the healthy life signature through the Force. The child wasn’t force sensitive, either, but Ben could feel its presence. Plaoje heaved a relieved sob before bearing down again. Her scream wasn’t as strained this time, but she was still in pain. Ben inhaled deeply and syphoned off more of her pain.

He wished he had been present for Anakin’s birth. To feel him coming into the world . . . Ben doubted anything would have been as beautiful.

Then again, he most likely would have had to cut his way through Gardulla’s palace to get there. Perhaps it was better that he had not been there.

He entered a light meditative state to create a cycle of calm energy between himself and Plaoje, taking her negative energy, expelling it into the Force, and replacing it with positive energy.

Shmi pulled him out of his meditation hours later after the birth, the afterbirth, and mother and child were resting together. He slowly disconnected from the cycle. The first time he had disconnected too quickly and collapsed due to the energy drain. After repeated practice, he was left in a slightly lethargic state but otherwise fine.

“Do you need help getting up the stairs?” Shmi asked. She was cleaning her hands and arms with waashubi powder at the basin to his right.

He shook his head. “No, I’m just going to join Anakin. Unless you need help?”

She smiled. “No, I’m just going to clean up. Do you mind getting started on dinner?”

“Not at all. Got anything particular in mind?” he asked, slowly stretching the muscles of his legs, shoulders, and back.

“The bruj should be ready by now. How ‘bout we bake that and just have a spread?”

“Perfect. I’ll get the tandoor started up,” he said, moving toward the stairs. “Do we still have those desert plums?”

Shmi laughed. “If Anakin hasn’t eaten them all yet! Are you going to make that sweet and sour mash like you did for Ani’s birthday?”

He smiled back at her. “I believe today is as good as any to celebrate a bit, don’t you think?”

He made his way up two levels and then to the kitchen. Anakin was at the dining room table with wire, metal parts, and tools scattered over the table but all within his reach. The nearly finished scanner was in his hands as he used his hands to fiddle with a fragile part. Ben didn’t want to disturb him, so he quietly (but not noiselessly) approached, squeezed Anakin’s shoulder, and placed a kiss on his head before heading to the risen tandoor on the other side of the kitchen.

“How’d it go?” Anakin asked absentmindedly.

“Wonderfully,” Ben replied, digging out some lump charcoal to use rather than the slower to heat briquettes. “No issues to speak of, and Plaoje will have minimal bleeding for the next few weeks.” Rather than lighting the charcoal immediately, he decided to begin the spreads and sauces first. The bread wouldn’t take long at all, even with the tandoor needing to be heated. “Did you eat all the desert plums?”

“Nope,” Anakin said, just as absentmindedly as before.

Humming, Ben pulled out the half full bag of plums, briefly checked their firmness, and began gathering the other ingredients and spices he would need for three mashes and two sauces. He was exceedingly grateful for Shmi’s culinary tutoring. He doubted she or Anakin would appreciate eating snake stew for months on end.

In the middle of making the third mash, Ben noticed that the quiet sounds of Anakin’s tinkering had stopped. He looked over his shoulder and saw Anakin glaring at the table intensely, gnawing on his lip and Force presence darkening with negative energy.

“Anakin?” he asked tentatively, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Are you all right?”

Anakin looked up at him. He opened his mouth before closing it, opening it, and closing it again.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right, Anakin? I want you to talk to me,” Ben soothed. He wanted to pick Anakin up and hold him close in moments like these. They were too familiar, too easily repeated, too prophetic. But while the Darkness was present in Anakin, it did not overwhelm him. Ben wouldn’t let it. This time, Anakin would not drown in the Dark . . . and if he did, he would not drown alone.

“I . . . can I ask you something, Ben?” Anakin asked. He curled in on himself, making himself look even smaller. He refused to take his eyes off the table.

“Of course, Anakin.”

“You won’t like it . . .” Anakin whispered guiltily.

Ben inhaled deeply before responding neutrally. “There are many things I do not like. Some things more than others, but if you’re worried about something, then we should work through it or at least confront it.”

Anakin nodded. He pressed his lips together and thought over his words. Finally, he began, “You know how you said that anger is bad?”

Oh. So, they would be having this conversation, but . . . so soon? Ben swallowed down his own initial panic and released it into the Force. Anakin was worked up enough for both of them. If he saw Ben react negatively to even the thought of conversing about anger, then he would clam up immediately, and Ben would have to work twice or even triple as hard to get him to open up.

He took another calming breath. Once he regained his center, he sat down across from Anakin. “I don’t recall saying that. Could you tell me what I said that made you believe my message was that anger is bad?”

Anakin frowned. “You said that if we don’t separate ourselves from our emotion, especially anger, then we can do bad things or be led to do bad things.”

“I apologize, Anakin. I explained the concept poorly the first time we spoke on it,” Ben said. “When I said that our anger can have a negative impact on us or the people around us, I did not mean that anger itself is bad or should be ignored or purged. What I meant was that if we allow our emotions to overwhelm us, then our judgement can become clouded. We can potentially say or do things that we do not mean or worse, harm those close to us. When you’re angry, do you not have the urge to do or say something harmful to whoever made you angry?”

Anakin nodded, albeit ashamedly.

“That is a part of being a feeling, sentient being. Everyone has the potential to become overwhelmed by their emotions and strike out because of it. In my opinion, everyone should learn how to control their emotions, but Force sensitives especially need to understand and be able to control their reactions to their emotions. We have the gift of an extraordinary power, but power comes with risks. A misstep by us can have terrible consequences for others.”

“So, it’s about responsibility?” Anakin asked.

Ben nodded.

Frowning again, Anakin said, “This time you said ‘reactions to emotions’. What does that mean?”

“Do you take an emotion at face value or do you investigate it further?” He chuckled. “I’m sorry for answering with a question, but that is how I understand it. Do you understand why you are experiencing an emotion? Your understanding of your emotions dictates how you express them, and you must be careful how you express them. Any emotion has the potential to cause you to accidentally lash out because for Force sensitives, our emotions and moods can directly impact how we use the Force. Whether you react positively or negatively to it might not actually matter, if you allow your emotions to control your judgement or powers. Take for instance you’re next to someone and something happens. If you’re intensely angry, you might accidentally send out a wave of Force energy and hurt the person you’re with. The same can happen when you’re happy, though there’s less of a chance it could happen. Are you following?” Ben said.

Anakin nodded slowly. “So why not just not feel at all? If emotions cause so many problems?”

“Because we are living beings, Anakin. To try and not feel would be detrimental to our mental and emotional health. Not only that, but it can also impact our judgment. If you get rid of all emotion, how can you sympathize with someone who is suffering? How can you have compassion? Yes, you can logically approach a situation, but there are times you must feel.” He smiled ruefully. “I feel like I’m not explaining this correctly.”

“No, I think I get it. We have to have balance or else we’re not healthy. But I still don’t understand how we keep emotions separate from the Force.”

Ben’s smile widened. “Diligence and training. Many Force users struggle with both sides of the spectrum or they convince themselves that they’ve mastered it when they’re just ignoring their emotions. It’s become quite the issue in the Jedi Order the past few decades, I’m sad to say.”

“So, I have to learn how to feel my emotions, but also understand them and not allow them to overwhelm me?” Anakin asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Ben said. “It sounds difficult because it is. Even non-Force sensitives have trouble with it. I’ve met very few people who have mastered it.”

“Mom’s one of them, isn’t she,” Anakin stated rather than asked.

Laughing, Ben nodded. “Yes, your mother has excellent control. Even better than my own. We both could do with some lessons from her.”

Anakin smiled but didn’t speak. Ben could tell something was still bothering him, something that had been festering for a while. A silence stretched between them.

Ben refused to allow the silence to overcome them. “What brought this all on?” Anakin’s smile faded immediately. “Anakin, you can talk to me about anything, remember? Even if I don’t like it.”

“It’s just . . . I’m angry a lot,” Anakin murmured, twisting his fingers harshly.

This time, Ben didn’t need to take time to calm himself. He and Anakin had gone through this before. Granted, they handled it poorly, but none of the pressures from then were influencing them now. They could be themselves and find their own path rather than blindly stumbling over others’ orders because that’s what they were expected to do.

“Anger, from my experience, is regularly a secondary reaction to another emotion,” he said evenly. “It is almost always paired with another emotion, but due to its intensity, it overshadows the other emotion until the anger has burned itself out. After anger has cooled, then you can discover your actual reaction. Anger is a defensive emotion. Its purpose, again in my experience, is to show us when we believe we have been wronged in some way.”

Anakin thought for a moment. “So . . . do we just look past the anger completely or ignore it?”

“If you are constantly feeling the drudgery of helplessness and misery, then how can you keep going? Anger is passion, and it can potentially overwhelm you, but it also fuels survival. Anger brings your attention to a problem,” Ben said. He reached out and traced the grooves of the scanner. “It drives us to solve problems. The secret is finding balance. Do not purge passion completely or you will not stand for anything. Do not allow passion to overcome you or you will lose sight of everything you used to stand for.” He paused and briefly wondered if he should push as far as he wanted to. He decided to ask the question and allow Anakin to choose. “So, again, Anakin, what brought this on?”

Clenching his hands, Anakin spit, “When I think about the slavers, I wonder why they’re doing it, _what’s_ _the point_?! How can they just enslave people all the time and not feel bad about it?! I know . . . _logically_ , what they get out of it. Free labor, money, status symbols, power, just the fucking enjoyment of hurting other people, but I just don’t understand! And, and, and . . .” Anakin’s voice, which had grown louder and louder as he spoke, dropped to a whisper. “I think about killing them . . . all the time. When more slaves come, when I check the evaporators, when we go to the market, when I’m meditating . . . I think about killing all the slavers. I—I know it’s wrong to want to kill people or killing people in general, but . . . is it really so bad if it’s slavers?” He looked up at Ben with sad, watery eyes. “I know you say we shouldn’t use the Force to hurt people, but I could help people once I have control. Working on the Freedom Trail helps a lot of people, but the slavers are just gonna buy more slaves. What we’re doing right now isn’t enough. Slavers don’t understand freedom or compassion. They only understand money and power. I have one of those things, why can’t I use it?”

“You’re asking a very difficult question, Anakin,” Ben said slowly. He was walking a fine line and couldn’t chance messing up. “This is a choice no one can make for you, not me, not Shmi. I was taught that violence should be a last resort . . . but I was also never a slave. Not in the way that you and your mother have experienced. You have an insight that I will never have. The only thing I can say is that, if nothing else has worked, then you only have one choice left. Once you go down that path, you must be sure in your purpose. You cannot falter on _why_ you are doing it or lose control, because if you do then you risk losing yourself.” Swallowing thickly, he took Anakin’s hands in his. “I will also tell you that, no matter what, I will be beside you. No matter what you choose, Anakin, I will follow.”

“Ben!” Anakin cried out. “No! Your nightmares . . . I wouldn’t make you fight in another war. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Ben smiled wryly. “I could never abandon you, Anakin. Only death would cause me to leave you. If you are going to start a war, if your cause is just, then I will follow.” His smile turned more teasing. “And, I’m sorry to say, but you have terrible planning skills. Someone has to do the thinking while you try and trample everything in your path.”

“Thank you, Ben,” Anakin said with the tone of someone who was both mourning and rejoicing. “Can . . . can I help you make dinner?”

Ben leaned over the table to wipe the tears from Anakin’s cheeks and kiss his forehead. “Of course, Anakin.”


	4. because skywalkers were never meant to be normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 12 years old  
> Shmi: 42 years old  
> Ben: 62 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 4 years

Anakin had been gone since lunchtime; neither Shmi nor Ben had noticed the too-quietness of their home until C-3PO had asked if either of them knew where ‘young Master Anakin’ was. The two of them had scoured the house but had found no sign of Anakin or hint of where he could’ve gone. Ben had come up from the hidden storage rooms to find Shmi standing in the doorway, her face contorted in worry and pain.

“Shmi? Shmi, can you feel him?” Ben demanded, rushing to her side. “Has something happened to Anakin?” They had many reasons to be afraid. There wasn’t just the Tuskens, wildlife, and the desert to be worried about; Anakin’s multiple wins in the Boonta Eve had brought attention to him, and the attention wasn’t always good. Anakin had been known for his mechanical expertise when he had been enslaved and was valued for it. Now, he would be worth triple as much. If slavers got it in their heads to go after him . . .

“I . . . I don’t know. The Force isn’t telling me anything. Our bond is closed off, just like yours is.”

Ben wrapped an arm around her. “Then, we’ll just have to go out and find him.”

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“What? Why not?”

She stared pointedly at the horizon.

He followed her stare and muttered, “Oh.”

A sandstorm was coming. They wouldn’t make it half a mile in the speeder before it caught up to them.

Wherever Anakin was, Ben prayed he was safe.

* * *

 

Anakin stumbled onto their property only a few minutes after dawn broke. He was filthy, tired, and clutching something to his chest with both hands.

Shmi and Ben rushed to him before he made it within fifty feet of the homestead. Shmi reached him first, scooping the almost thirteen-year-old into her arms as she collapsed to her knees in front of him. She nearly crushed him with the force of her embrace.

“Ani, Ani, oh, Anakin, my Ani,” Shmi murmured repeatedly. Her voice cracked on the third repetition.

Ben embraced Anakin from Shmi’s right but not before soothing Shmi’s claw-like grip on Anakin’s back. She was fisting his clothes so tightly that the fabric creaked worryingly.

Anakin scrubbed his face on Shmi’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone so long. The Force told me to go, so I did. But then I had to get away from the Tuskens, and they chased me into the valley, and then the storm was about to hit, and—”

Shushing him, Ben felt along their bond. Anakin opened it immediately. Ben felt his exhaustion, the lingering adrenaline, the slowly dissipating, sour fear in his gut, and the giddy protectiveness over whatever he was holding. Anakin was bruised, tired, and hungry, but no serious harm had come to him. Ben breathed a sigh of relief.

Shmi was doing her own search, both with the Force and without. When she deemed Anakin all right, she released him briefly to tug both him and Ben to their feet. “Let’s get inside,” she muttered, pulling Anakin back against her side.

Anakin shifted whatever he was holding to only one hand and held the newly free hand out to take Ben’s. The small family quickly entered their home, the two adults keeping a wary eye out for anything or anyone that might have followed the littlest home.

* * *

 

Anakin refused to show them what he was holding. He said he would explain soon but wanted to clean up first. Shmi and Ben had already been maneuvering him to one of the freshers as he spoke. Once Anakin was bathing, Shmi and Ben moved to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Whatever Anakin had to tell them could wait until after he was properly fed and hydrated.

They ate in physical silence, but the Force around them buzzed with relieved, protective energy. When their meal was finished, the family cleaned up together before sitting at the table again.

Anakin squirmed on his seat, eagerness setting in as he beamed at his guardians.

Shmi smiled indulgently. “All right, Anakin, show us what the Force wanted you to bring home.”

“Hopefully it was worth almost worrying us to death,” Ben muttered. He jerked when Shmi kicked him under the table.

Beaming, Anakin dug something out of his pocket and held it out to them, cupped in his palms.

Shmi and Ben gaped wordlessly.

Krayt pearls. Three gleaming krayt pearls. They were slightly smaller than chicken eggs and perfectly nestled in Anakin’s hands.

“Anakin . . .” Shmi said slowly, “where did you get those?”

Krayt pearls weren’t something that people just found lying around. They were the remnants of the rocks that krayts swallowed to assist them in digesting their food. The rocks that the dragons preferred weren’t completely solid and, over time, became more sand than rock before being compressed into pearls over the dragon’s lifetime. Normally, the pearls were unobtainable. They stayed lodged within the dragon’s gizzard until its death in its cave. Once a krayt died, its cave was almost immediately taken over by another krayt. Only the truly desperate or greedy would take the risk.

Anakin immediately launched into the story, “They’re what the Force led me to. After the Tuskens chased me and the storm started closing in, the Force led me to a cave. I didn’t know it was a krayt cave until I saw a bunch of bones, but by then it was too late. The krayt confronted me, and I thought it would eat me, but it didn’t. It just stared at me and waited. The Force told me to touch it, so I did.”

Clenching his eyes closed, Ben took a deep breath. Of course. Of course, Anakin would get chased into a krayt’s cave and then get it in his head to _touch_ the damn thing. Ben risked a peek at Shmi, and she seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I was scared, but the Force told me the krayt wouldn’t hurt me. The krayt let me pet it for a while and curled around me. The Force . . . did something. It got louder and brighter and concentrated in the krayt’s throat. When the storm died down, the krayt coughed up the concentration of the Force—the pearls—into my hands and then left,” Anakin finished. “That’s when I knew that the Force had wanted me to find the pearls.”

_The Force . . ._

Ben concentrated on the pearls. “Oh . . .” he murmured, leaning forward to inspect the pearls more closely. The Force swirled through the pearls with a natural balance.

Anakin separated one pearl from the other two. “This one’s mine, the other two are mom’s.” He handed the two pearls to Shmi.

Frowning, Shmi took them. Anakin seemed to have a better grasp on what the pearls were for than her, but then again, Anakin was much more in tune to the Force than she, or even Ben, was. Ben wasn’t even surprised at this point anymore. Anakin would never follow the status quo, at least not naturally.

“What are these for? Ben?” Shmi asked hesitantly. She could tell that he had realized something.

 _Anakin always did complain about the crystals ‘not fitting right’._ Scrubbing at his face with his hands, he sighed, “We somehow need to find lightsaber parts.”

Of course, the Skywalkers would use krayt pearls rather than kyber crystals to power their lightsabers. Why would Ben expect anything else?


	5. in which a smuggler is needed, ben's patience is tested, anakin is amused, and hondo is himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 13 years old  
> Shmi: 43 years old  
> Ben: 63 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 5 years

Anakin elegantly weaved the speeder through the dangerous rock quarry. “So, who’re we meeting?” he asked again with only slight annoyance.

Ben sighed. Again. With much more annoyance than Anakin. “I’ve told you several times, Anakin. I don’t know. All I know is that our contact said they had found someone willing to smuggle lightsaber parts. They didn’t tell me the smuggler’s name or even what kind of deal we could make with them.”

“Do we know if they’re trustworthy?”

“I think that, between the two of us, we can determine if this so-called smuggler is worthy of our business,” Ben said smoothly. “Don’t you think so, Anakin?”

The thirteen-year-old burst out into giggles and accelerated the speeder.

* * *

 

Mos Espa was only slightly busier than it normally was. Their supposed smuggler was waiting in a pre-determined cantina, having chosen to arrive with an influx of other outlaws so as to not attract attention. As Anakin sped towards the cantina, Ben couldn’t help but wish the smuggler had chosen another cantina, _any_ cantina was better than the one chosen. The last time Ben had been to this cantina, Luke had been with him, and Ben had ended up slicing a man’s arm off when Luke was threatened.

Hopefully that wouldn’t happen again. Anakin was thought of as nearly as dangerous as Ben, seated only behind his mother. Word traveled fast when one had a tendency to cut through the Hutts’ goons like vapor paper and could outfly every pilot on (and off) planet.

They immediately scanned the cantina upon entering. Their contact said he would be in a booth by himself, near the back-left corner of the room . . . Oh no.

“Oh no,” Ben murmured before letting out a string of curses that had Anakin raising his eyebrows.

“Ben?” the boy asked cautiously. Ben tended not to swear, especially not around Anakin (or at least when Shmi was within hearing range), and it had to be bad if he had passed Huttese and Ryl and gone straight to Mando’a.

Screwing his eyes shut and steering Anakin towards the bar, Ben muttered forcefully, “I need a drink first.”

“Did you see our contact?” Anakin asked, trying to look over his shoulder to see who had set Ben off.

“Don’t look at him!” Ben hissed. “You’ll invite him over. I need to prepare myself for dealing with _him_.”

Anakin climbed onto a stool while Ben hunched over the bar next to him. “Who is he?” Anakin asked.

Ben downed a shot of something ridiculously vile before answering. “His name is Hondo Ohnaka. He’s a weequay and was the leader of a pirate gang on Florrum when I knew him originally.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Anakin watched Ben down another shot. “So, can we trust him?”

“Absolutely not,” Ben said, grimacing.

“Oh,” Anakin said. He frowned. “So, we came here for nothing?”

Ben sighed like he had been pulling a particularly ornery bantha uphill for hours on end. “No. As much as I hate to admit it, I believe we should see what he wants in return before trying to find another smuggler. While Hondo is rather . . . eccentric and untrustworthy, he’s one of the best in the business.” He looked at Anakin. “But we must be on our guard. Hondo’s allegiance is the highest bidder. If we enter into an agreement with him, then we tell him as little information about ourselves and our business as possible. We must be constantly vigilant. He can turn on us at any time if he sees an opportunity for profit. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ben.”

“Good. One more drink and we’ll get started.”

* * *

 

Hondo Ohnaka hadn’t changed much since Ben had first met him . . . or was it that he wouldn’t change much? Bah. Time travel was such a ridiculous thing. Ben should’ve given up using the proper terminology years ago. If it wasn’t for Anakin cheerfully teasing him about it, he would have.

The point was that Hondo had more alcohol than blood in his system and was surveying the cantina with a deceitfully lazy stare. A stare that lit up when Ben and Anakin approached the table.

Standing and causing several mugs and bottles to wobble dangerously, Hondo announced loudly, “My friends! So good of you to join me! I was beginning to wonder if the womp rats had gotten you!”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Womp rats? I can take those in my sleep.”

It was the agreed upon phrase to signal that they were indeed who Hondo was looking for. At least Anakin had chosen something that no one else in the cantina would question coming out of his mouth.

Hondo laughed. “Of course, of course! I would expect nothing less from you, young one! Please, sit, sit! We have much to discuss!”

Ben seriously considered simply scooping Anakin up and making a run for the exit, but they really needed those lightsaber parts. Anakin had already begun experimenting with scrap metal after being allowed to examine Ben’s lightsabers. His last experiment nearly blew down a wall, and the only reason he hadn’t been injured was due to the force shield he had put up at the last moment.

Hondo flopped into his chair, and Anakin and Ben sat down across from him.

“Introductions are in order, I believe,” Ben said. Best to get the meeting over and done with.

Hondo clutched at his chest with his free hand. The other was gripping another bottle. “How rude of me! I am Hondo Ohnaka. Captain of the Ohnaka Pirate Gang and, today, the best smuggler in the Outer Rim.”

Anakin tilted his head. “Does that mean you won’t be the best smuggler tomorrow?”

Ben sighed. The table was quiet was a moment before Hondo burst out in loud guffaws.

“You, boy, I like you! A business partner with a sense of humor!” He leaned over the table to mutter conspiratorially, “You don’t get that often in this business. Everyone is so serious all the time! There is never time to simply get to know each other or be friendly! It’s always business, business, business—”

“Like today,” Ben interrupted. Once Hondo got going, there would be no stopping him. “You may call me Ben. This is Anakin.” There was no use in using fake names. Hondo already knew who they were, whether by reputation or his own investigating.

“You wound me, my friend!” Hondo gasped, once again clutching at his chest as he collapsed back into his chair.

Ben fought down the instinct to roll his eyes in exasperation. “You already know what we want. What do you want in return? We will pay above standard pricing due to the nature of the product, but extra will be decided by the quality. If the quality is extremely poor, we will deduct from the standard payment. Understood?”

Hondo became serious. “You drive a hard bargain, my friend, but yes, understood.” It was strange to see Hondo not haggling for less payment restrictions, but maybe he could tell that Ben was not someone who could be haggled with. The corner of Hondo’s mouth turned upwards. “Perhaps part of the payment could be you having dinner with me later this evening,” Hondo offered slyly, eyeing Ben over the rim of his mug.

“What,” Ben said flatly.

Anakin immediately pressed his hands to his mouth to suppress his giggles. It didn’t work, but Ben would appreciate the effort after he regained his higher brain function.

“Dinner!” Hondo said, leaning back against the wall and propping his booted feet on the table. “Just you and I sharing a meal in an intimate setting as part of the agreed payment for getting you those lightsaber parts that you and your force users need.”

Ben kept his face blank. “First, I’m nearly sixty-three, double, possibly triple your age. Second, how am I to know that . . . _dinner_ is not a set up to kidnap me and sell me to the highest bidder?”

Hondo gaped dramatically. “I would never trick the enchanting being who has managed to ensnare my wild heart! How could you think such a thing, my dear? And you look positively ravishing for such a respectable age! I would never have guessed that you have lived for over six decades! Now I wonder what sort of _experience_ you are hiding—”

Ben let out a strangled sound that could have been ‘shut up’, but Anakin couldn’t tell because Ben was lurching to cover Anakin’s ears with his hands.

“There is a child present,” Ben hissed, glaring at a smirking Hondo.

Anakin scoffed and swatted at Ben’s hands until he removed them. “I’ve heard worse, Ben. Mom and I used to live in the slave quarters, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to hear it,” Ben sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke. Cursing Hondo’s very existence, Ben asked plainly, “How exactly can you assure us that you won’t betray us when it’s most profitable to you? Our business is delicate, and it’s well known that we look unkindly upon those who make it more difficult than it already is.”

All playfulness vanished from the pirate’s demeanor. He placed his feet back on the floor, set his drink on the table, and leaned towards them. “Your business is the only reason I want this job.” At Ben’s confusion, Hondo continued, “I have not been captain of my crew for long, Mr. Kenobi, but in that time, I have made my name known to the Outer Rim. Business is good, excellent, in fact. I don’t need a job with high risks and low pay.”

“Then why bother?” Anakin asked.

Hondo stared at him as if weighing his options. Then, he held his right-hand palm up and clasped his right wrist with his left hand, showing them the back of his hand. “So'lanai,” he greeted Anakin lowly.

Anakin’s mouth dropped open slightly. It wasn’t every day that freemen used the slave’s greeting.

“You were a slave?” Anakin whispered. He was now leaning over the table to meet Hondo in the middle.

Hondo nodded sharply before dropping his hands. “I was. A few years ago, I was owned by a Hutt. I earned their trust and was eventually able to steal my detonator, supplies, and a ship. I’ve been pirating ever since.”

That was something Ben hadn’t known about Hondo. Ben felt a mixture of surprise and respect. To not only escape, but to escape alone, with a ship, and from a Hutt was unprecedented. Ben wondered which Hutt Hondo had swindled and found his mouth quirking upwards. Hondo had always been filled with surprises, and Ben had been fond of him during The Clone Wars, even with the unpredictable selfishness that made working with him so dangerous.

“Well then, Mr. Ohnaka—”

“Please, call me Hondo, my dear, none of this ‘Mr. Ohnaka’ nonsense!”

“Hondo, then,” Ben said smoothly. Force, having Hondo flirt with him made Ben feel twenty years younger. “Does that mean you’re interested in other parts of our business rather than simple parts smuggling?”

Hondo gave him a positively feral grin, slammed back the rest of his drink, and signaled to the bartender. “Barkeep! Fresh drinks for me and my friends!” Hondo turned back to Ben and Anakin, the grin never leaving his face. “We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slave greeting is from AmayaNatsuya’s Lead Me From Fear To Love


	6. Naboo Invasion Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lmao get rekt jinn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 9 years old  
> Shmi: 39 years old  
> Ben: 59 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 1 year

Shifting the parcels in his arms, Ben adjusted the hood of his cloak to shield from the suns’ glares. He and Anakin were in town buying food and parts, well, Ben was buying supplies. Anakin had run off to play with his friends in the slave quarters after attentively watching Ben haggle over prices. Now, it was time to return home. Under normal circumstances, Ben would’ve allowed them to linger in town, but his force sense was warning him of an oncoming sandstorm. If they left soon, they wouldn’t have to use the Force to shield themselves and the speeder against the storm, nor would they incur the wrath of Shmi, who, to be wholly fair, was much more terrifying than any sandstorm could hope to be.

“Jira,” Ben greeted warmly as he approached the woman’s stall. The small repulsorlift carrying the rest of his purchased goods followed at a close range.

“Oh, hello, Ben!” she said with a smile. “Here for your order?”

“That I am.” He handed over the money and helped Jira load up four closed crates filled with both fruit and hidden datasticks with information on slaver movements. “Tell me, have you seen Anakin? I checked the slave quarters, but he wasn’t there.” Ben wouldn’t allow himself to panic. Anakin’s resourcefulness and craftiness had only been multiplied by Ben’s training; he would have given any slavers more than they bargained for if they attempted to capture him.

“Oh, yes! He was going by Watto’s shop. Said he wanted to look through the scrap there,” Jira said.

Ben let out a soft sigh of relief. Of course, Anakin was at Watto’s. He was always looking for new, hidden finds and sometimes Watto would hire him to repair scrap that Wald couldn’t fix.

“Thank you,” he said while securing the crates.

“You’re welcome, Ben. You’ll be careful now, you hear? Don’t let Anakin get you into too much trouble.”

Laughing, Ben said, “Honestly, I don’t know who’s getting who into trouble these days. Make sure to get inside soon. There’s a storm coming.”

Jira grinned. “You’re more reliable than my own bones, Ben. Take care of yourself now.”

“You, too, Jira. Have a good day.”

Ben made his way to Watto’s shop, greeting people and cheerfully ignoring the Hutt goons eyeing him. If they attacked him in the market, he would be at an advantage, and they knew it. So, he gave them a smile, to which they either sneered or flinched, and went on his way.

Watto’s shop was just around the corner and—

_Oh no._

“No, not today,” Ben murmured. Not any day, was what he truly meant, but he had hoped his wishes would push the date back until it never came.

Anakin was talking to Qui-Gon Jinn in front of Watto’s shop, a bag of parts cradled in his arms. The Toydarian was nowhere in sight, but Padme Amidala and Jar Jar Binks were hovering right behind Jinn.

Anakin must have felt his stare because he turned to look at the stunned Ben. His face lit up. “Ben!” he said excitedly, bouncing over to hug Ben. Beaming, he looked up at Ben and said, “This is Qui-Gon, Padme, and Jar Jar.”

The small group approached, only Qui-Gon seeming perfectly at ease.

Smiling, Qui-Gon said, “Greetings, and you are?”

“Ben Skywalker,” Anakin stated proudly. His chin rose as if to dare someone to challenge him.

Ben smiled and shifted his bundle to one arm and cradle Anakin close to him with the newly free arm.

Anakin didn’t allow the group to ask questions, immediately launching into an explanation. “They’re looking for parts to repair their ship, and Watto has the parts, but they only have credits. So, I told them Watto wouldn’t haggle with them, but Qui-Gon thinks he can talk Watto into taking the credits even though he only takes wupiupi and peggats.”

Ben forced himself to relax as Anakin talked. He had to decide now—either help the Queen or not. If he refused, Naboo would suffer. If he agreed, Jinn would try to convince Anakin to become a Jedi, and no matter how solid the bond between Ben and Anakin was, Ben was afraid of losing Anakin.

“Anakin is right,” Ben found himself saying. “You’ll never convince Watto to take Republic credits. He believes they’re worthless.”

Qui-Gon smiled, kindly but slightly patronizing, just as Ben remembered him being when he was alive. Death and rejoining the Force had managed to curb that latter trait, even if it had been replaced with sadness and regret.

“Yes, well, I do not believe he will be capable of refusing my offer,” he said.

Ben regarded him coolly. Dealing with Qui-Gon Jinn was a balancing act. If you gave him an inch, he would run over you, and if you were too aggressive, he would simply disregard you as ignorant.

“While I’m sure you have many reasons to have such faith in your abilities, sir, those skills will do you no good here,” Ben said.

Anakin’s amusement and withheld laughter danced along their bond. Mentally, he informed Ben that he had been drawn to Jinn’s force presence, which wasn’t as heavily shielded as it could have been. Back when he had been Obi-Wan, Ben remembered chiding Jinn for his lack shielding and being rebuffed by his nonchalant master.

Disapproval reverberated through the bond. Ben glanced at Anakin, who was frowning slightly, and sent him reassurance. Ben had made peace with his turbulent apprenticeship and relationship with the Order during the end of his first life. He refused to allow it to rule him now.

Ben looked back to Qui-Gon, adding, “You would have an easier time requesting assistance from the Hutts than getting Watto to accept Republic credits, and that’s a fact.”

Padme’s frown deepened. She glanced at Qui-Gon and when the Jedi didn’t have an immediate response, said, “Do you have any advice for us, sir? Our need is dire, and going to the Hutts is out of the question.”

Ben hummed, ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair, and risked a look at his charge. One hopeful glance from Anakin was all it took.

“Come to our home. Perhaps we can work out a plan of assistance,” Ben offered.

“We really must be getting back to our ship,” Qui-Gon said bluntly.

Ben allowed himself a small smile. “Oh? And which direction is it in?”

“Southeast of here,” Padme replied before Qui-Gon could answer.

“At least a mile or so outside of town, yes? There’s a sandstorm coming from that direction. You’ll never make it back in time. Our home is out west, and our speeder will get all of us there before the storm hits,” Ben said. “Anakin modified it himself, and at top speed, it’s a match for some of the racing pods.”

There was a thoughtful look in Padme’s eyes; she was weighing her options just as a Queen should. She looked at Qui-Gon, whose mouth thinned. He almost looked like he was going to refuse and glanced at Watto’s shop and back to Anakin.

Qui-Gon nodded. “We thank you for your kindness.”

Ben’s smile grew. “You’re most welcome. Come. We must hurry to outrun the storm.” He waved for the group to follow him and Anakin as they made their way back to their speeder. “Miss Padme, you’ll have to sit up front with Anakin and I since your companions are larger than average, but we’ll all fit just fine.”

Ben carefully shielded his amusement as Qui-Gon’s mood soured instantly.

* * *

 

The drive was uneventful in the way that they weren’t attacked or caught in the storm; however, Ben did allow Anakin to drive slightly less carefully than normal, under the impression of allowing him to show off to Padme. If the backseat passengers were jostled a bit more than was proper, well, Ben wouldn’t comment. Though it was a challenge to keep his expression serene while listening to Qui-Gon continuously fight to not be crushed by Jar Jar.

Shmi was waiting for them outside when they arrived. She raised her eyebrows when she saw the three guests and looked to Ben, who tilted his head towards Anakin.

Beaming, Anakin said, “Mom, these are my friends: Qui-Gon, Padme, and Jar Jar! They needed help, so we offered to let them stay with us!”

While introducing herself, Shmi asked Ben through their bond, _Are they trustworthy?_

 _Yes_ , Ben said. “Come on, Anakin, we need to get the supplies inside and cover the speeder before the storm hits.”

“Please, allow us to assist you,” Qui-Gon said, quickly climbing out of the speeder and pulling Jar Jar with him. The two of them immediately picked up the heaviest objects, though the gungan had much more difficulty.

Padme swooped in to grab another crate out of Ben’s hands. “Let me get that for you.”

“Thank you, my dear. Anakin, please take this and show the others where to place everything,” Ben said, handing Anakin another crate.

Shmi approached when the others were inside. “What’s going on, Ben? You know these people, like you know Ani and I. Should we be concerned?”

Ben heard the unasked question: _Are you going to leave us?_ He smiled and patted Shmi’s hand. “Yes, I do know them, but they do not know me, at least not this me. I’ll answer whatever questions you and Anakin have about them, but for now, they’re just travelers who need dire assistance on an unfamiliar planet. Their ship’s engine has been ruined, and they only have Republic credits.”

She frowned. “That shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Many parts dealers take credits, unless . . .” Her eyebrows furrowed as she finally understood. “Watto’s the only one with the parts they need, isn’t he?”

Nodding, Ben said, “Correct.” He ran a hand through his hand, which had grown enough to curl around his ears and flop into his eyes. “I remember how the parts were gotten the first time, though neither you or I will like it.”

Shmi pursed her lips and stared at the horizon. No doubt she could feel the oncoming storm, as well. “The Boonta Eve is only a few days away,” she said knowingly.

“Yes,” Ben said tiredly. Though Anakin had won the last Boonta Eve Classic—and his mother’s freedom after his own had been purchased by Ben—neither Ben nor Shmi were comfortable with him competing, no matter how much Anakin enjoyed it or how good he was at it. “No doubt Anakin has already decided to compete and use the money to purchase the parts needed.”

Leaning against Ben, Shmi smiled softly, saying, “Let’s be honest. Anakin was going to compete again this year no matter what. He’s been improving his pod constantly and—”

She cut herself off when they saw movement at the home’s doors.

Qui-Gon approached them, his expression a mix of Jedi serenity and openness. He stopped a few feet from them, folded his hands into his robes, and bowed. “We thank you for opening your home to us, madam and sir. I assure you we mean no harm to your family.”

The corner of Shmi’s mouth quirked upwards. “We understand that quite well, Mr. Jinn, and please, call us Shmi and Ben. Now, let’s get this inside or else we’re all going to be buried in sand soon.”

Dinner was prepared by Shmi and Ben with Padme insisting on assisting. Anakin was firing questions at Qui-Gon, trying to get the man to admit he was a Jedi; his attempts at mimicking Ben’s diplomatic wordplay weren’t the worst Ben had ever seen but definitely needed refinement. While Ben remembered Anakin being interested in the results of his negotiation tactics, Anakin rarely had patience when dealing with people. Perhaps this time would be different, though Ben believed Shmi would follow in his diplomatic footsteps first.

Qui-Gon gave into Anakin’s questioning during dinner. His eyes were amused and indulgent as he said, “You’ve caught me, Anakin. Yes, I am a Jedi. I’m here on a very important mission. We’re on our way to Coruscant, but since our ship was damaged, we’re stranded.”

Anakin considered this for a moment. “You’re not here to free the slaves . . . are you?” he asked slowly, like he already knew the answer but wanted it confirmed.

The three guests froze, looking down ashamedly, though Shmi and Ben continued to serve the food after ushering Padme to sit down.

“No,” Qui-Gon said softly. “We are not here to free slaves.”

Anakin didn’t look offended by this, only like he was puzzling over something. “Do the Jedi ever free slaves?”

 “Yes, we do. In fact, my Padawan and I have broken up several slave rings over the years,” Qui-Gon answered.

“Then why don’t we see more Jedi here on Tatooine? Shouldn’t you be fighting the Hutts? Or something like that?” Anakin asked, taking a drink of blue milk.

Ah, Ben understood. Anakin was trying to understand how the Jedi could be protectors of the galaxy yet not actively free slaves. Ben had been explaining The Jedi Order to Anakin, but many concepts were difficult to grasp to those who hadn’t ever set foot on a Republic world, let alone been raised away from the temple.

Qui-Gon seemed to be trying and failing to properly word his response, so Ben entered the conversation as he and Shmi took their spots at the table.

“Most of the worlds where slavery thrives are outside the Republic jurisdiction, Anakin, or, more likely, outside the concern of the Senate. The Jedi Order entered the service of the Republic and therefore, the Senate, many years ago so they could protect the peace and people of the Republic. While it is commonly thought that Jedi are allowed to go and do whatever they please, there is much more to it than simply wanting to help people. The Jedi go where the Senate asks them to go, not where they believe they’re needed most,” he explained. “We must also keep in mind that deciding to end slavery throughout the galaxy is, in essence, a declaration of war. The Hutts won’t give up their power without a fight, and not only do they already have private armies of mercenaries but the funds to hire more. The Jedi are peacekeepers, not soldiers. For them to fight a war would be to go against their entire Code and way of life and would ultimately lead to internal strife, even if they knew what they were fighting for is right.”

Anakin frowned. “That sounds like slavery to me.”

Ben hummed and firmly ignored Qui-Gon’s shock reverberating through the Force. “Yes, there are many types of bindings, Anakin. The Jedi’s servitude is, outwardly, one of duty to the Republic and its citizens, however, the Senate rarely looks past their own interests. The Jedi cannot legally go outside the parameters allowed to them by the Senate without being punished. If the Senate believes the Jedi are attempting to gain power and overthrow the Republic, they could order the disbandment of the Order. Don’t get me wrong, Anakin, the Jedi do good where and when they can, but they have less power than most of the galaxy believes.”

“I think I understand. The Jedi can’t fight to end slavery because the Senate doesn’t think it’s important, and if they go against the Senate, then they’ll be punished.”

“The Republic tries to do good,” Padme interjected. “It isn’t perfect by any means, but it tries to be fair and just.”

Ben tilted his head in acknowledgement. “And yet its flaws are noticeable even out here, where its laws mean nothing.” Padme frowned but seemed to consider his words rather than argue. Ben took this as a sign to continue speaking, “The Senate is filled with corruption, Padme. So much so that even those who truly wish to do good have their hands bound by those who prefer profit to justice. The Senators who want to help inevitably cannot see the corruption because they are playing by the Republic’s laws while the corrupt care not for the laws at all.”

Ben let the heavy atmosphere linger for several moments as he and his family ate, their guests no doubt attempting to gather their wits while picking at their plates. Anakin was peeking up from his plate every now and then, silently asking Ben when to best introduce his plan.

When Ben finally gave a small nod, Anakin tentatively asked, “So, have any of you seen a podrace?”

The off-worlders all gave small sighs of relief. Qui-Gon jumped at the change of topic.

“They have podracing on Malastare, very fast, very dangerous,” he said, giving Anakin all his attention.

“I’m the only human who can do it,” Anakin said, watching Qui-Gon just as intensely.

Ben wondered if Anakin’s stare hurt Qui-Gon as much as it did him; he got his answer when Qui-Gon’s shields tightened, his shoulders tensed fractionally, and he didn’t watch Anakin as closely.

“You must have Jedi reflexes if you race pods—” Qui-Gon caught Jar Jar’s tongue as it shot out to snatch up a piece of fruit. He stared the gungan down. “Don’t do that.” He released the tongue, which snapped back into Jar Jar’s mouth.

Anakin ignored the comment about his reflexes without even glancing at Ben. “I won the Boonta Eve Classic last year, after Ben bought my freedom, and we were able to free Mom and had enough money to buy the farm and fix it up,” he said. “The money would be more than enough to buy the parts you need.”

“Are you offering to race for us?” Qui-Gon asked.

Anakin nodded. “I was going to race again this year anyway. I’ve been fixing my pod up all year. We just need the entrance fee.”

“We can cover that,” Qui-Gon said. “If you’re going to put yourself in danger to assist us, then we should be the ones to sponsor you.”

“You can’t be serious,” Padme snapped. “He’s nine, Master Jinn, a boy. He shouldn’t be putting himself in danger at all.”

“While that may be true in the Republic, Padme. This is Tatooine,” Shmi said tiredly.

Padme looked at her in shock. “He’s your son! Will you really allow him to do this? To potentially die to help strangers?”

Shmi gave her a thin smile. “Anakin and I were slaves only a year ago. We had no control over anything in our lives, not even our own bodies were our own. Do you know that slaves all have transmitters surgically implanted in their bodies to prevent them from escaping? I’ve seen collars used, as well, but those ruin the cosmetics of the property and are rarer than transmitters. If the slave gets out of range of their detonator, the implant explodes. I have seen many slaves die not only from that, but because their implant malfunctioned, or their owner wanted to send a message to the other slaves. As slaves, we did not own ourselves or our fates. Anakin knows the risks of podracing and has already proven he can win. If you’re asking if I approve of him risking his life or if I do not fear for him, then the answer is no. Before Ben came into our lives, Anakin was all I had. I’m afraid of losing him, but I can lose him in many ways—Tuskens, slavers, starvation, dehydration, Tatooine’s deserts and wildlife, or podracing—there are so many ways to die here. At least this is his choice, and I will not take that from him,” she said softly.

Padme slumped in her seat and murmured, “I apologize. It isn’t my place to question your lives and choices. Living my entire life in the Republic has given me a narrow view of the galaxy. I cannot even hope to comprehend your lives. I beg your forgiveness.”

Shmi settled a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I will not judge you for what you cannot understand. You are still young. You believe the galaxy works in black and white, evil and good, and that they are easily distinguishable, but they aren’t. Evil can hide in the light under a familiar, welcoming face, and good is sometimes bloodstained and vicious. Only you can decide how to view them.” With a smile, she stood. “Now, who is going to help me wash up?”

* * *

 

The next night, Ben watched Anakin and Qui-Gon out on the terrace. Anakin was telling Qui-Gon the stories of the Tatooine constellations. The previous night, Ben had almost stopped Qui-Gon from taking a sample of Anakin’s blood, but the Force had told him not to intervene, and he obeyed.

Qui-Gon had become more insistent on speaking with Anakin about the Jedi Order. Anakin was interested, though not in the way Qui-Gon believed he was. Anakin was a hoarder of knowledge; a habit Shmi had confessed to Ben came from being enslaved. If you knew everything about a person, especially their secrets, then you could hold it over them. Forbidden knowledge was power for the powerless.

Over ten years raising Anakin and twenty years meditating on the hows, whys, and ifs hadn’t given Ben the understanding of Anakin that Shmi’s words had.

Ben and Shmi had, of course, resolved to teach Anakin why people had the right to their own secrets, but it was a process, one Anakin sometimes struggled with.

“Anakin,” Ben called softly, interrupting before Anakin could start another story and gaining both his and Qui-Gon’s attention. “It’s time for bed. We’ll be finishing your pod tomorrow, and the race is the day after. You need your rest.”

“Yes, Ben!” Anakin chirped. He said goodnight to Qui-Gon, hugged Ben goodnight, and went inside.

“He’s an extraordinary boy,” Qui-Gon said, folding his arms into his sleeves and adjusting his stance. The stance was a familiar one to Ben; he remembered it from when Qui-Gon was anticipating a particularly thorny diplomatic dispute.

Rewrapping the thick shawl Shmi had knit for him around his shoulders, Ben stepped out onto the terrace. His movements were as smooth and easy as flowing water. Qui-Gon was watching him carefully, he noted; the Jedi was likely observing the similarities in how the two of them moved, and Ben allowed him to.

He stopped beside Qui-Gon, though looked up at the sky rather than the taller man. “More than you know,” Ben replied. _Than you could ever know_ , his tone implied.

Qui-Gon’s mouth had thinned slightly when Ben finally looked at him, his own face completely serene. He imagined Qui-Gon was comparing him to the Council at this point while wondering how to argue with such a Jedi-like non-Jedi.

“I believe,” Qui-Gon said slowly, “it is safe to assume you know Anakin is force sensitive.”

Nodding, Ben languidly said, “Yes.”

“You know he is powerful.”

“Yes.”

“You also know he has enormous potential.”

“Yes.”

“Taking all of that into account, I would like to take him to Coruscant, to be trained as a Jedi.”

“No.”

The tension that had faded from Qui-Gon during their conversation returned in full force, though Ben gave him credit for hiding it extremely well.

“I beg your pardon?” Qui-Gon asked.

Ben gave him a lazy stare. “You will not be taking Anakin to Coruscant.”

“The boy must be trained,” Qui-Gon insisted.

Something within Ben turned predator-like at Anakin being referred to in such a way. “Yes, he must,” he said. “Just not as a Jedi.” Then, he turned away and entered the family home, leaving a stunned Jedi alone in the night air.


	7. Naboo Invasion Part 2, aka Enter Maul, stage right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 9 years old  
> Shmi: 39 years old  
> Ben: 59 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 1 year
> 
> ps-thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos! i am now prepared to die for you! so, if you're ever forced into a death by combat scenario, hmu. i can't use a sword or anything, but i'll just start swingin so it'll be fine

“Do you really have to go with them?” Anakin asked Ben.

Ben ruffled Anakin’s hair. “I’m only helping them install the parts and then bringing the eopies back, Anakin. I won’t be gone long.”

Shmi wordlessly came up behind Anakin and placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them comfortingly.

Anakin frowned. “Then why can’t I go? I’m even better at mechanics than you are.”

Smiling, Ben crouched down so Anakin could look him in the eye. “Anakin, what’s this really about?”

Anakin gnawed on his lip and glanced over to the others, where Padme and Qui-Gon were trying to help Jar Jar onto one of the eopies and (mostly) failing. “It’s just . . . what if they try to steal you?”

“Pardon?” Ben asked, taken aback.

“You’re wise,” Anakin said. “Really, really wise, Ben, even wiser than Qui-Gon. Being wise is important to the Jedi, right? What if he and his Padawan decide you belong with the Jedi? Someone needs to be there to back you up!”

Emotion welled in Ben’s chest, threatening to overwhelm him. Instead of forcing it back, he opened the bonds and allowed how happy, touched, and wanted Anakin’s words made him feel.

Anakin’s eyes watered just as Ben’s did, and the boy sniffled and rubbed at his eyes but smiled.

Shmi released one of Anakin’s shoulders to trace Ben’s cheekbone. “You know we love you, too, Ben.”

Ben smiled. “Of course, I do, and I love you both very much.” He looked back to Anakin, taking Anakin’s smaller hands in his own. “Qui-Gon will not try and kidnap me, Anakin. I know this because I’ve bruised his ego far too much for him to desire such a thing—” Anakin giggled. “—Truthfully, I don’t want to go at all, but the Force tells me I must. Can you feel it?”

Anakin closed his eyes immediately. Ben felt his concentration through the bond; he firmly believed he would always be in awe of how easily Anakin could navigate the Force when shown what to do and given few restrictions.

Surfacing, Anakin said quietly, “There’s something. I’m not sure exactly, since it’s not for me, but the Force is doing that weird wavy buzz around you, like soft static.”

Ben nodded. “The Force is nudging me on a path. The path it believes to be the correct one.”

“And we follow the Force when it speaks to us,” Anakin said.

Ben’s smiled widened. “Yes, we do.”

“What if the Force tells you to go to Coruscant with them?”

“Then, I’ll have to tell them to wait until all three of us can pack, because I doubt you two would let me go anywhere without you,” Ben said.

“Of course not,” Shmi said. “We’re a package deal.”

Ben laughed and, after kissing Anakin’s forehead, stood with only the slightest protest from his joints. Shmi’s various teas were working, as well as the healing meditations Ben had retaught himself. “I swear to you both: I will not go with the Jedi, even if I believed they could stand my presence.”

“Ben?” Padme called out.

The Skywalkers stared at her.

The undercover queen temporarily froze under the combined attentions of the family. In a softer, less urgent tone, she said, “We’re ready when you are.”

Ben smiled. “Of course. One moment please.” He turned back to Shmi and Anakin. “Why don’t you wait for me with the Whitesuns? Aralil is expecting another child and wants us to be the ones to deliver it, correct?”

“All right, Ben, but if you’re not back in an hour, we’re coming after you,” Shmi said.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Ben said.

* * *

 

“May I ask what Anakin wished to speak to you about?” Qui-Gon asked.

Ben repressed a smile at the Jedi’s prodding. The man was still miffed Anakin had rejected his invitation to be trained on Coruscant; he wished to stay on-planet longer, but his responsibility to Queen Amidala and Naboo’s crisis would not allow him to.

“He was afraid you would try to steal me, sir Jedi,” Ben replied playfully. He didn’t turn to look at Qui-Gon, but he knew the man had grimaced.

Padme giggled and sent Ben an amused smile, which Ben was more than happy to return. Qui-Gon grumbled something under his breath, and Ben’s smile widened.

Perhaps this wouldn’t end in disaster like he feared.

Of course, he wasn’t exactly prepared to come face to face with his younger self.

But . . . Old Ben Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi were not the same people. This became utterly clear when they approached the ship.

Padawan Kenobi was waiting for them outside the ship with the ship’s workers, who immediately began moving the parts into the ship when the groups stopped.

“Do I want to know how we’ve acquired these parts?” were the first words out of Obi-Wan’s mouth as he squinted at his Master.

Dismounting, Qui-Gon smiled and tilted his head to Ben, who also dismounted. “We have Ben Skywalker and his family to thank for our good fortune, Obi-Wan.”

Padme elegantly dismounted while Jar Jar fell off the eopie; he quickly stood and tried to brush the sand off of himself. Padme and Jar Jar bid Ben goodbye, both hugging him, before gathering their things and boarding the ship.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, turning his attention to Ben.

Ben smiled and tried not to let his sadness show. “Yes, my boy won the local podrace and used the money to buy your parts.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised. “A podrace? How old is your son?”

“He’s nine.”

Obi-Wan immediately frowned and turned a furious glare on Qui-Gon, who endured it serenely.

Smiling, Ben said, “There’s no need for that, though I thank you for your concern. Anakin was going to race again anyway, and he wanted to help.”

“Well, you have our more gracious thanks, in any case,” Obi-Wan said, finally looking away from Qui-Gon.

Padme appeared on the ship’s ramp. “Master Jedi, the ship is almost ready for takeoff.”

“Thank goodness,” Obi-Wan said. “No offense, sir, but your planet is . . . quite terrible.”

Ben laughed. “Yes, it is an acquired taste, though not as terrible as you would think. As long as you have company, of course.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Thank you again for your help with acquiring the parts. I doubt we would have gotten them at all if not for your son,” Obi-Wan said.

“Oh, I’m sure you would have managed. Somehow,” Ben said, eyeing Qui-Gon who steadily ignored the comment.

Obi-Wan’s serious expression cracked, and he finally smiled. He seemed about to speak again when Qui-Gon swooped in.

“We should board the ship, Padawan,” he said.

Obi-Wan grinned. “Of course, Master.” He gave Ben a short bow and walked towards the ship.

“Are you sure I could not change Anakin’s mind?” Qui-Gon asked. “Or perhaps yours?”

“No, Master Jedi, we will remain on Tatooine, however I do admire your persistence.”

“One must always try if they wish to succeed.”

“Hm, yes, but one must also realize when their preferred path is not the best one.”

Ben would miss their quiet philosophical spars. Before the Jedi’s arrival, he and Shmi regularly competed in such a way, but their viewpoints were too similar to a true debate, so Ben would sometimes adopt his old Jedi philosophy to give her something to argue against.

Qui-Gon smiled. “Perhaps,” was all he said before he too turned to the ship.

Ben could not leave yet. The Force was still urging him to stay; whatever it wanted had not happened yet. So, Ben said the first thing that came to him.

“When you meet with the Counsel, be sure to request reinforcements for your return to Naboo. You will especially be in need of a pilot.”

“Beg your pardon?” Obi-Wan said as both Jedi turned back.

Cocking his head, Ben said, “Be sure to ask the Counsel for reinforcements. At least two or three, though more would be better. At least one of them needs to be a skilled pilot. I suggest Master Plo Koon. His flying skills are excellent, after all.”

“And how do you know this?” Qui-Gon asked, adopting that same cautious stance again.

For a moment, Ben imagined telling them the truth. They would take him—and Anakin and Shmi—to the Counsel, and he would tell them everything. If he let Yoda rummage around in his head, they would all believe him. Perhaps they could fix their crumbling world together.

The words bubbled up only to die right behind his lips. No. That was not his path. He was no longer a Jedi. His job was not to fix the Jedi Order anymore; it was to train and protect Anakin and Shmi and follow them wherever their courageous hearts took them.

He released the feelings into the Force and smiled. “The Force works in mysterious ways, Qui-Gon Jinn. That is all I will tell you on the subject. However, if you will take another piece of advice, then I will give it to you.”

“And what is it?” The fire burning behind Qui-Gon’s eyes made Ben’s heart pound. Force, he had missed the man, even if he was an arrogant asshole.

“You should find your wayward Master. Gallivanting around the Outer Rim for years on end is all well and good, but being alone for so long isn’t healthy for anyone. Tell him that if he wishes to change the Order, then he must actually try. I would suggest placing him as head of the Political Counsel.” While he hadn’t known his Grandmaster very well, the man’s political prowess was obvious. Ben’s expression softened. “Bring him home, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon’s mouth fell open. For several moments, he simply stared at Ben, like he was seeing something he hadn’t before and was trying to figure out why. Obi-Wan puzzled over Ben in a different way, as if the Force had plopped a mystery into his lap with no clues on how to solve it.

Ben wanted to wonder if he had just given everything away but was given no time to do so. The Force was suddenly screaming. All three men reached for their lightsabers as a black shape sped towards them on a speederbike. A figure leaped off the bike, flipped through the air, and landed as it lit its double-ended, red lightsaber.

Ben was closest and pushed himself forward to intercept Maul first. His movement surprised the Sith, who had not considered the old man a threat, and he used that surprise to shove him back with the Force and into the sand.

“Ben!”

Ben looked over his shoulder. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were about the enter the fight, and he couldn’t have that. The Force told him this was his fight, not theirs.

Using the Force, he shoved both men up the ramp and into the ship. They were not expecting the move and were easily shoved back. When they weren’t in danger, Ben forced the ramp to close, ignoring the shouts of the Jedi.

He turned his attention back to Maul in time to block a heavy blow from above. He grunted with the effort. He was too out of practice to keep this up for long, but while Maul was in the prime of his life, Ben knew how he fought and could anticipate his movements.

Maul’s fury grew as they traded blows; it grew so bloated that Ben was choking on it. He gathered the Light as a familiar cloak around himself and forced it to push against Maul’s Darkness. Sparks exploded when their lightsabers connected once more. Maul shoved himself closer to Ben, snarling and baring his teeth as he tried to physically overpower and intimidate him. Ben held firm. He knew Maul; he knew him better than even Sidious did. At the end of everything, he had been the one Maul had come to when he was ready to die. Their history was a turbulent one and only existed for Ben, but it could not be denied.

The Force swirled around them, stirring up sand and throwing grit in their eyes. The ship began to take off behind them, but it did not disrupt them. Their focus was solely on each other.

Ben adjusted his stance and shoved back against Maul, using the Force to bolster his strength. The Apprentice hissed but gave way. Ben had experience fighting amongst the sand; Maul did not.

Maul paced back several feet. “You cannot defeat me, Jedi!” he sneered, his voice raising to be heard over the distancing roar of the engines and the whirlwind surrounding them.

“I am not a Jedi,” Ben said. “Just as you are not a true Sith.”

Maul snarled at the perceived insult but did not rush forward. He chose to pace, and the two began circling each other uneasily.

“You know nothing of the Sith,” Maul hissed.

Memories floated through the sand. Ben saw himself fighting Maul on Naboo. He saw Dooku and the arena on Geonosis; Ventress torturing him on Rattatak; Maul killing Satine; himself fighting both Maul and Savage; himself killing Grievous; the Counsel and the Yoda trying and failing to kill Sidious; Anakin as Ben left him to burn on Mustafar; his own death at the hands of Darth Vader.

“I know enough,” Ben said.

Maul cursed in a language as Dark as his presence. Ben didn’t understand the words, but he did understand the sentiment. He stopped when Maul did and readjusted his sweaty hands on his lightsaber. He wondered if he was imagining the creaking of Maul’s gloves; surely, he couldn’t hear it over the roaring in his ears—

Maul took a step forward, and the Force _screamed_.

Both men froze in place—they could not move if they tried. The Force thickened around them, forming impenetrable walls dividing them from the outside world but not each other. The Force swirled and churned as if they were submerged in a sea rather than standing in a desert. Their force signatures blurred together until there was nothing but gray between them.

When the Force finally reached out for them, Ben believed his chest was on the verge of collapsing.

The Force reached for Maul first—Ben could feel no malice in its intent, but your brain being rooted through like a discount bin was never comfortable. Ben felt the Force reach for something—the training bond with his Master, Ben realized with a shock—within Maul and pull. The bond snapped as if it were freshly formed, and then the Force reached for Ben.

Terror shot through him. He could not bear the thought of losing his bonds to Anakin and Shmi, but he could not struggle. The Force would not allow such a thing. It went through his mind, but his current bonds were left alone. Instead, the Force made space for a new bond and began entwining Ben’s presence with Maul’s.

The entire process did not take long, but for the two men, it stretched to eternity. When the bond was finally complete, the Force released them.

Ben collapsed to the ground. His lightsaber shut off and fell from his hands. He hoped Maul would be too distracted to continue their fight because Ben’s strength had abandoned him.

Thankfully, Maul seemed to also be struggling. Ben could hear him snarling, cursing, and trying to get to his feet, and eventually, he managed to stand. Ben expected to hear footsteps coming towards him, but he didn’t. Maul stumbled away from him, and soon, Ben heard the speederbike’s engine come to life.

Ben opened his eyes in time to watch Maul vanish into the desert. He continued to lay sprawled in the sand. He knew he had to get up. He had to find where the eopies had run off to, and even if he couldn’t find them, staying under the suns’ glares promised terrible consequences. But his bones ached in a way they hadn’t since Ben endured the endless battles of The Clone Wars, and his head throbbed with a new, raw bond being stretched farther than it should be. He could spare a few moments to sit in the sand.

“Well,” he murmured, “that did not go as I had hoped.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, there's a curveball
> 
> oh, and y'all know you can come to my tumblr and ask about this fic, right? especially if there's a character or situation you wanna know the fate of in this au. i can't promise how quickly i'll write it, but i'll definitely take note of it!


	8. In which Ben doesn't exactly lie to the Jedi and Maul is a stalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 9-11 years old  
> Shmi: 39-41 years old  
> Ben: 59-61 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 1-3 years

Ben did not see Darth Maul again for nearly a year since their initial meeting. Through the bond, Ben knew Maul had not left the planet but nothing else; Maul had firmly closed it off, and Ben would respect his wishes. Besides, despite what Shmi and Anakin thought, Ben no longer had a death wish.

During the year of Maul’s absence, the Skywalkers received a holo call on their older than dirt receiver. The flickering visage of a Jedi Ben vaguely recognized requested to speak with him, and he agreed. What followed was a no-nonsense conversation of the day Darth Maul (“The Dark Sider”, as the Jedi referred to him) engaged Ben in combat. Ben stated that he held his opponent off until the Naboo’s ship had left, and then the Dark Sider had left shortly after. He did not mention the bond. The Jedi did not ask why Ben had a lightsaber or lightsaber training, and Ben did not offer an explanation.

“So, you have not seen or heard from the Dark Sider since then?” the Jedi asked.

“No,” Ben said easily. It wasn’t a lie. Maul might as well have vanished from existence for all the interaction he and Ben’d had.

“I see. Thank you for your time and cooperation, Sir Skywalker. I will report this to the Council. If the Order has any other questions, may we contact you?”

“Of course,” Ben said.

“Thank you again, sir. Have a good day.”

“Good day to you, as well.”

_What the Jedi don’t know won’t hurt them_ , Ben thought as the Jedi signed off. Immediately, he physically cringed from the thought.

“Not the best choice of words,” he muttered to himself.

* * *

 

The second time Ben met Darth Maul, the Sith held a vibroblade to his throat and threatened his life.

Of course, Ben had known he was being watched and expected the action, so he wasn’t particularly bothered.

“You know, a simple ‘hello’ would suffice,” Ben drawled. The blade ghosted along his skin with every syllable.

“Silence!” Maul hissed. “If you speak out of turn, I will slit your throat.”

Ben hummed. “Threatening my life? And I honestly expected creativity. Pity. Anyway, no, I doubt you will kill me.”

The blade was pressed closer. “And why do you doubt my word?”

“Because the Force has tied us together, and you want to know why.”

“And what is your answer, Jedi?” Maul asked, his anger simmering under the surface but contained all the same.

Ben laughed. The blade cut thin slices into his throat. “Oh, I am not a Jedi. I was—in another life—but I am one no longer. Just as you are no longer a Sith.”

“I am a Sith apprentice, old fool. Nothing will change that, not your words or the Force itself.”

“Perhaps you were an apprentice in name, but nothing else,” Ben said. “And you already knew that.”

The shields closing them off from one another cracked. A wave of Darkness washed over Ben; its cloying heat attempted to smother him, and its grasping hands reached for his Light, only to be batted away. Closing his eyes, Ben allowed Maul’s Darkness to surround him, but he did not falter. Compared to the gaping abyss Darth Vader had been—A blackhole wrapped in rotting flesh, all-consuming and forever hungry. A beast with nothing to his name but the blood he bathed in and the chains binding him. Simply standing against the onslaught of his horror had made Ben pray for death—Maul was merely a cloudy sky.

The Darkness and the blade vanished, and with them, Maul.

Ben hummed as he turned around to inspect the now empty alley. He stroked his beard. “Well, it could’ve gone worse, I suppose.”

* * *

 

“Ben, are we ever gonna meet your stalker?” Anakin asked.

The past year had been quiet, though not as quiet as the one before. Since that second meeting, Maul had taken to shadowing the Skywalkers on random days. Mostly, he followed them around the markets, watching but not interacting, but there were times when he didn’t keep his distance. Extra supplies would be left at predetermined drop points; rare parts or repaired machinery were left on their doorstep; slavers would go missing. Of course, Ben had no real proof Maul was behind the events. Maul was exceedingly skilled and well trained. For proof, Ben would have to actively try to catch him in the act, but the Force told him he was right, and Ben was content to let Maul adapt at his own pace.

Ben looked over the selection of spices that stall had to offer. Shmi had been slowing acclimatizing him to the traditional foods of Tatooine and had given him an extensive grocery list. While he hasn’t particularly looking forward to burning his mouth to a crisp, anything was better than snake soup.

“In time, Anakin,” Ben said. He hadn’t kept his force bond with Maul a secret from Anakin or Shmi, nor had he hidden Maul being Dark, a former apprentice to a Sith, or their second meeting. Anakin and Shmi had been hesitant to accept his nonchalance towards the encounters, but as time passed and Maul only made himself known through distant acts or shadowing them, they regarded Maul as a distant—and stubborn—family member.

“We mustn’t rush him,” Ben continued. “His entire world has been changed, and he needs time to accept those changes.”

Anakin pouted. “But it’s been almost two years. Isn’t he lonely?”

Smiling, Ben looked at Anakin and stroked his shoulder-length hair. “I imagine he’s used to being alone, Anakin.”

Anakin’s pout faded into something like mourning. “Has he ever had anyone? In his entire life?”

“Well, I suppose he’s had his Master, but from what I know of Sidious, his apprenticeship . . . was not nurturing,” Ben said.

“‘There are many forms of slavery’,” Anakin quoted softly.

Ben didn’t pause. “Yes, I imagine his apprenticeship was much like slavery, and he, like you before you earned your freedom, has never known anything else except it. He must decide to trust us himself.”

Anakin nodded. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Do what we’ve been doing. We accept what he gives us, don’t rush him, and, if he ever decides to reach out, accept him with honesty and openness. The Sith life is one of pain, suffering, and dishonesty. Maul was raised with the idea that to advance, one must kill their teacher. There is always a power imbalance—the Master owns the power, and the Apprentice desires it. If the Apprentice is to one day become the Master, they must kill their Master. This lifestyle has shaped who Maul is, but he can become so much more,” Ben said.

“Did the Force tell you that, or do you know it from Before?” Anakin asked.

The corner of Ben’s mouth twitched into a smirk. ‘Before’ was how Anakin and Shmi referred to Ben’s life before he came to them; it was also code for “We know you’re probably a time traveler or something wild like that, but we’re not gonna talk about it”.

“Both,” Ben said. “Near the end of the time I knew him, Maul had grown to be more than simply a Sith Apprentice. He’d become a teacher and a leader. In fact, if it were not for Sidious’ direct intervention, Maul would have successfully conquered at least one planet, possibly more.”

“Because Sidious wants a slave, not an Apprentice,” Anakin said. He frowned. “He’s not a very good Sith, is he?”

“Laughing, Ben said, “Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Well, if the Sith are supposed to raise Apprentices to surpass them—because they want the Sith to keep getting stronger, and the Apprentice has to be stronger than the Master to kill them, and the cycle repeats—and Sidious doesn’t want to be surpassed, then he’s a terrible Sith, isn’t he?”

Ben finally decided on various spices, not knowing if they were up to Shmi’s standards, and grinned at Anakin. “Very good, Anakin. Sidious is a pretty terrible Sith.” _And perhaps that can be used to our advantage._

But that was a thought for another time. The now was for finishing their errands and pretending they couldn’t feel a set of eyes following them around the markets.


	9. the first domino falls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: 15 years old  
> Shmi: 45 years old  
> Ben: 65 years old  
> Time since Ben arrived: 7 years

Ben ducked behind cover to avoid the hail of blasterfire. The siege on Jabba’s palace was going as well as Ben had expected it to, meaning barely according to plan but surprisingly good. Their forces of freed and trained slaves had been steadily advancing until Jabba decided to take them seriously and pulled out the big guns—literally.

“Anakin, Shmi, we’re pinned down. We can’t risk moving forward until the guns are down,” Ben said into his comm. Shmi and Anakin were the infiltration team; their ability to fade into nothing within the Force was even greater than Ben’s and made them the perfect choice to sneak past Jabba’s guard and wreak havoc within the palace.

“Almost there, Ben,” Anakin replied. “There’s a single power source deeper inside, so we’ll be able to take out all the guns at once rather than one at a time.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Really? Truly poor planning on Jabba’s part. We’ll be sure to thank him for it later.”

Anakin’s stifled laughter made Ben smile. “After we take out the guns, we’ll head to the ship bay and disable the ships, so Jabba can’t run like the sleemo he is.”

“As brilliant as this plan is, some backup would really be appreciated at the moment,” Hondo piped up from his cover beside Ben’s. “Where is that other apprentice of yours? The really angry one with too many tattoos.”

Rolling his eyes, Ben said, “Maul should be arriving any—”

A pitch black starfighter dropped into the atmosphere, spinning to avoid incoming gunfire, and unleashed blasterfire on the palace’s entrance.

“Ah, there he is,” Ben said. “Right on time.” He opened the bond between him and Maul to give his thanks and check in with his tentative third student. “Maul says that Jabba’s incoming ships have been disabled. Teams five through twelve is taking control as we speak.”

Anakin and Shmi let out soft whoops over the comm. Hondo clucked his tongue and shook his head in mock disapproval.

“Slower than I expected. While I would never doubt your illustrious training methods, my dear, perhaps the spikey one could use a bit more discipline?” Hondo suddenly clutched his chest as if in agony. “Look what you have done to me, my love! I used to be the fun parent! Now I am saying the children need more discipline! Anakin, blow something up on my behalf.”

Anakin giggled. “We’re being sneaky, Hondo.”

“But my reputation as a disreputable swindler and pirate, I must save it! It’s the only thing keeping my dear Ben from straying!”

Snorting, Shmi said, “No, that would be his arthritis.”

“Can we please concentrate on the fight happening at this moment?” Ben drawled while Hondo squawked indignantly about how much he liked when Ben crunched as he walked.

“We’re almost to the center generator. We’ll have the guns down in minutes. Tell Maul to concentrate at the back exit. I can feel people concentrating there,” Shmi said, ignoring Hondo.

Ben repeated the message to Maul over the bond. The starfighter circled around and began firing on each entrance, starting at the back and working its way around. As he did so, a grumbling Hondo dived from his cover to Ben’s.

“Light of my life, please tell the Illustrious Lady Skywalker to apologize to dear, sweet Hondo, Pirate Extraordinaire,” Hondo begged, leaning against Ben’s side heavily.

Laughing, Ben asked, “I’m sure a pirate of such eloquence and esteem as yourself can handle a few barbs at your ego.” He peeked around their cover to check the entrance. Jabba’s soldiers had retreated after Maul’s initial strike, though Ben could still feel them lingering just out of sight.

“Ben,” Hondo whined.

With a good-natured sigh, Ben turned to look at Hondo. “Yes, Hondo?”

Hondo’s mouth slotted over his in a soft kiss. Ben froze. The kiss was simply a barely-there connection of their mouths but felt like so much more. Relaxing, Ben tilted his head and pressed forward to deepen the kiss. The sounds of the battlefield muted until the pair could have been anywhere in the galaxy. Hondo gently traced Ben’s whiskered cheek and jawline with his fingertips, cupping it when he was sure Ben wouldn’t move away. Ben leaned into the contact eagerly; Hondo’s hand was sweating from the heat and callused form years of weapon usage, but the contact grounded Ben amongst the kiss’ lightness.

Both his bonds to Anakin and Shmi blew wide open, blasting Ben with annoyance. He jerked away from Hondo. Their mouths disconnected with a wet sound.

“Wha—” Ben’s strangled exclamation was cut off by an exasperated Shmi speaking over the comm.

“You two can make-out like teenagers later. We’re in the middle of a fight, remember? The guns are down, now move your asses!” she ordered before shutting off her comm.

Ben sputtered, and his cheeks heated.

Cackling, Hondo darted away and towards the entrance. “You heard the woman, my love! The sooner we end this, the sooner we can celebrate!”

At that point, Ben really should have reconsidered which of his life choices had brought him to the point of being (possibly?) romantically involved with Hondo Ohnaka of all people, but he had a hutt crime lord to defeat. Philosophy could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ everyone commenting on how maul is the skywalker's stray/feral cat/dog that they adopted: you're 100% right and i love all of you

**Author's Note:**

> i'm thefandomhoarder on tumblr so come tell me to write stuff for this


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